Listen Up, Motherfathers

$99? In Manhattan?

Oh.


I just finished re-reading The Magician King by Lev Grossman to refresh myself for Tuesday's release of The Magician's Land.

And before that, I finished reading The Dinner by Herman Koch, a nasty piece of work.

I bet my brother fucks the way he eats, that he stuffs himself into a woman in the same way he stuffs a beef croquette into his mouth—and that his hunger is then stilled. [54]

I was remarkably calm. Calm and fatigued. There would be no violence. It was like a storm coming up. The café chairs are carried inside, the awnings are rolled up, but nothing happens. The storm passes over. And, at the same time, that's too bad. After all, we would all rather see the roofs ripped from the houses, the trees uprooted and tossed through the air; documentaries about tornados, hurricanes, and tsunamis have a soothing effect. Of course it's terrible—we've all been taught to say that we think it's terrible. But a world without disasters and violence—be it the violence of nature or that of muscle and blood—would be the truly unbearable thing. [183-184]


Free association:

Marvel Studios' output from 2011-2018 =


Very casually playing through Ocarina of Time.

Three temples complete (Captain America 1, Thor 2, Guardians of the Galaxy), three more to go.

Avengers 3 = Ganon's castle.


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